Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“Why didn’t you save her?”
I squeeze the bag in my hand, knocked off my feet at her question. “I tried.”
She takes another step closer to me, and just when I think she’s going to say something hurtful, or maybe even hit me, her shoulders sag in defeat. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes fly over my shoulder, landing on Royce’s room. A different kind of pain flashes over her face before she comes back to me. “He’s going to make you his.”
“What?” I snap, almost angry that she’s bringing this up right now. Like she really wants to go down that road after Bonnie just died in my fucking arms. I want to rip out her fake hair and sink my fingernails into her eyeballs.
“I’ve seen how he is with you. Different. He moves like a possessive animal anytime you’re near. He shared me out, but I can’t see him doing that with you.”
I run the palm of my hand over my cheek to stop me from balling it into a fist and accidentally hitting her. “Why are you telling me this and right now, of all times?”
Her blues come down to me, because I’m a whole few inches shorter than her.
“Because I don’t think you deserve him. I see it in your eyes. The deceit, the secrets you’re holding from him. That man would tear the flesh off of people just to ensure your safety, yet you—” She pauses, and my fingers twitch into the palm of my hand. “You can’t even be honest.” She spins around before I can hit her and disappears through another door, slamming it closed. That bitch doesn’t know a fucking thing about Royce and me, and I don’t have to explain it to anyone.
But is she right?
With new worries now fresh in my mind, I make my way back downstairs and to the kitchen, where Slim is seated with Roo. Movement interrupts me through the crack in the curtain and I watch the police tape the scene, with Lion and Gypsy still outside.
“The police?” I don’t know why, but it’s the first thing that I think about. It strikes me as odd that outlaws would have the cops at their pad.
Roo swipes his thick thumb over his mug, nodding his head. “Yeah, they’re all in our pocket, with the exception of the little fucking redhead that keeps looking into the kitchen. There was history with her and one of our other brothers from another chapter. That tight ass doesn’t just have beef with us, she has a whole fucking butchery.”
I ignore his comment, just as Slim points to the plastic bag I’m holding. “Clothes?” He stands from the table and takes it from me. “I’ll get rid of it.”
“Thank you,” I murmur just as my phone vibrates in the waistband of my pants.
(image)
Now it’s your turn to play. Be out the front in four minutes and bring nothing.
The blood drains from my face, my knees turning to Jell-O.
“Wow, you alright?” Roo asks, watching me before looking down to my phone.
I clutch it to my chest. “Yes. Ah, I’m just—I need a minute.” I rush back upstairs and yank on my Vans, jogging back down the stairs.
“Jade, just stay inside, babe,” I hear someone say, but I ignore them.
I ignore every single person who tries to stop me from leaving this house.
I ignore the stares from the officers who are looking at me strangely as I pass them.
And I ignore the calls of Lion as I pick up to a jog, bolting out the gate. I see nothing but my best friend, my sister in harm. They probably all think that I’ve lost my mind after what happened with Bonnie, which is partially true, but nothing, and I mean nothing, would have prepared me for the photo I just saw.
Nothing.
So when the black Maserati that I’m so familiar with comes into view, idling at the curb, I run for it. I run so fucking fast that my lungs burn and the tears in my eyes dry. Pulling open the door, I climb into the passenger seat and face James with newfound rage.
“Where the fuck is she!”
Torture is a weapon, not a kill shot. It’s an art, and it just so happens to be something I excel at. The human body is expendable. The sole purpose for it is to heal itself. Amazing if you really think about it. I don’t. Not often, anyway. But when I have someone hanging from his tied hands connected to the ceiling of a basement, blood spilling out of his mouth and nose, and his jeans with piss stains drenched through the fabric, it’s the only thing I can think about.
Placing a cigarette in between my lips, I boot the man with the sole of my heavy foot and chuckle. “You’re lucky as fuck it’s not me you pissed off today.”